


Handcuffs and Roses

by ArcticLucie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Flower Shop, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Blow Jobs, Daryl doesnt want him to, Daryl's the Flower Fairy, Falling In Love, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rick can't stay away, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 12:01:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18850672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: Five times Daryl sold Rick flowers, and one time he gave Rick one.Or, the obligatory flower shop AU every ship needs.





	Handcuffs and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have this! _*showers y'all with flowers and runs away*_

“Look at the fuckin’ flowers,” Merle had said, smacking Daryl upside the head. As soon as he looked at the white Cherokee roses glistening with morning dew that lined the little worn path behind their house, Merle called him a fucking flower fairy. Daryl fell for it because he was ten at the time, so it was Merle’s fault really, that Daryl grew up intrigued by soft petals instead of soft women.

Or so he said.

When Daryl had finally scraped enough money together from his job at the garage to open up his own flower shop, of course he had to name it the Flower Fairy just to spite the bastard. He embraced the title, and that seemed to piss Merle off more than anything else he’d ever done… until he fell in love with Rick Grimes.

The first time Rick came into the shop, his police uniform clung to him like wet tissue paper thanks to a freak summer storm. Dark, dripping curls framed his face and Daryl’s heart might’ve spasmed when Rick’s tongue darted out to catch a droplet tumbling down from his nose.

“Daryl?” Glenn asked, stealing his focus. He hadn’t heard him come out of the back room.

“What?” he all but yelled, making his assistant-slash-delivery boy flinch. Daryl sighed. “What is it?” he asked a little softer.

“Can you order that blue orchid for me? Maggie’s birthday’s coming up.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. Jus’ write it down on the order board.”

Glenn beamed as he scuttled off into the back with a “Thanks, man” thrown over his shoulder.

Daryl’s eyes honed in on the cop again as he watched him move around the shop, bow legs on full display in his soaked pants. He prided himself on reading people, that’s why he made such a good florist, but he had trouble with this guy for some reason. Maybe the cop part threw him off. Cops and Dixons went together about as well as _Dionaea muscipula_ and flies. That’s a Venus fly trap to those not in the business.

“Need somethin’ or jus’ gettin’ out of the rain?” Daryl asked when the cop started on his third lap around the shop.

“Hmm? Oh, yes actually.” The officer approached him and placed his palms on the counter. Daryl couldn’t help but notice the dull band around his ring finger. Married. Of course, and had been for a while judging by the dents in the gold. “I need some flowers for my wife.”

And straight. _Figures._

“Special occasion?” Daryl gruffed, looking away from the cool blue eyes that almost had him shivering.

“Uh, no, jus’ wanted to surprise her.”

“She got a favorite flower?”

“Lilies, white lilies.”

The cop moved to grab the bouquet of lilies a couple feet away, but Daryl stopped him. “Those are the displays. I’ll have ta grab some from the back. You can look around if ya want…or did ya want ‘em delivered somewhere? Fee’s extra, but we can still get ‘em out today.”

The man thought for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, she might like that.”

Daryl pulled out a delivery slip and a card, and then reached for a pen that had a gaudy silk flower taped to the end. “Jus’ fill these out.” He pushed the slip across the counter and watched the guy write his name. Then he busied himself with the arrangement Glenn brought out before the deputy wandered in, needing some sort of distraction to keep from getting his ass beat by a cop on account of his lewd staring.

“Anything else ya need, Rick?” Daryl asked, when Rick slid the order info back over to him.

“Nah, these should do for now.”

Daryl hummed in reply and got to work putting the order into the computer. Glenn had another round of delivers scheduled for the afternoon, so he assured Rick they’d go out within the hour. By the time they’d completed the transaction, the rain had slowed to a lite sprinkle. Before Daryl had to attempt the torturous process known as small talk, Rick’s radio sputtered to life, and he rushed out the door without a goodbye.

Daryl did his best to memorize the way Rick looked in his uniform as he fled so he could imagine peeling it off piece by piece when he got home. His spank bank had started to run low on ideas, but fantasizing about the cop seemed like the perfect way to spice up his imagination.

His favorite one included Rick laid out on a bed covered in rose petals—all _American Beauty_ style—his milky white flesh a stark contrast to the blood red flowers. Then Daryl would tease him with the velvety tip of a long-stemmed rose, taking his time to map out every last inch of him before sinking down on his rigid cock and fucking himself dry.

And shit, he didn’t know how right Merle had been all those years ago until that moment. Because he wasn’t just a flower fairy, he was the goddamn queen.

 

//

 

Two months passed before Rick found his way back to the Flower Fairy. Lori had liked the lilies he got her, but they did nothing to mend the ever-growing rift forming between them. Perhaps roses this time. Honestly, he didn’t know why he bothered. At this point, sending Lori flowers felt like patching holes in the hull of a ship with bubble gum.

The bell jingled when he pulled open the door, and when his eyes met the man’s behind the counter, he remembered exactly why he decided to bother. He’d almost forgotten what Daryl looked like. Except for the eyes; those blue eyes stayed with him. And yes, Rick knew his name, address too. _Stalker._ Cops had perks like that.

Rick began a slow sweep of the perimeter, hoping to prolong his visit for as long as possible. Stolen glimpses of Daryl in between the kaleidoscope of arrangements had his insides tingling. _Peeping Tom._ Peeping Rick. He remembered that giddy feeling a new crush gave you, even if it had been awhile. He also remembered the ring on his finger, the weight of it, of the vows he made on his wedding day, but damn if it hadn’t started to feel like a shackle around his heart.

He stopped in front of the roses, the multitude of colors making the decision more challenging than he expected. You couldn’t go wrong with the classic red, right? Love, romance, all the things he wished to feel again with Lori. But that seemed too easy.

“Need some help?” asked a gruff voice from behind him, the sound illuminating the darkest depths of his soul like the first rays of sunshine after days upon days of heavy rain, only twice as blinding.

What the hell was he doing?

Daryl stepped up beside him, their eyes locking, and Rick’s stomach did a somersault. He liked this, the intensity in Daryl’s eyes, the danger hidden just below the surface, the dare on his lips when his tongue slipped out to wet them. _Cheater._ No. He could flirt.

“Suppose I could use an expert’s opinion,” Rick replied, his voice lower and rougher than usual. He broke eye contact and chided himself. Had he no shame? He came for flowers for Lori.

He came for the biceps on full display in front of him.

“For yer wife?” Daryl asked, and Rick didn’t know whether to rejoice or recoil at the undertone of jealousy he picked up on. Or maybe that was wishful thinking.

“Yeah, we’re on rocky ground at the moment.” Rick didn’t know why he told Daryl when he could hardly admit it to himself, but he couldn’t take it back and didn’t really want to.

“Yer fault?”

“Isn’t everythang,” Rick hissed. Jesus, maybe he and Lori had more problems than he thought.

A heavy silence set in, but Daryl broke it up before it could weigh them down. “Purple Hyacinth.”

“What?”

“They mean ‘forgive me.’”

“Fuck no,” Rick all but spat. He met Daryl’s eyes and couldn’t help but grin at his knowing smirk. The poor guy must’ve dealt with idiot husbands like him all day long. “Sorry.”

Daryl laughed him off. “How ‘bout daffodils?”

Rick gave him an expected look and waited for a translation.

“Symbolizes chivalry.”

“Ah.” He supposed that would do, not that Lori gave a shit about hidden meanings. He nodded his approval and followed Daryl over to a premade bouquet of white flowers. “Okay, I’ll take ‘em, but could you maybe add a little color? I don’t care what as long as it doesn’t mean ‘it’s all my fault’ or somethin.’”

Daryl gave a slight nod before taking the bouquet into the back, and Rick might’ve watched a little too intently as he walked away. _Deviant._ But he didn’t care, his mind now occupied with lascivious thoughts involving that ass and his cock. And maybe some handcuffs and roses.

He hobbled toward the counter and used it as cover as he palmed himself through his jeans, hoping he could ward off the tightness growing down below before Daryl returned. Or another customer walked in. God, his balls were bluer than the Georgia sky. Returning home with flowers in hand might help to ply apart Lori’s frigid legs, but he didn’t dare hold out hope. In that moment, he knew his marriage was over, though he’d seen it coming a mile away.

Bursts of orange freckled the white bouquet when Daryl returned. He placed the flowers on the counter like they were made of precious glass then reached for an order slip.

“Delivery or—”

“Nah, I’ll take ‘em with me.”

“Twenty-seven fifty.”

Rick reached for his wallet then fumbled for his bank card. When he looked back up, a ravenous gaze, dead set on devouring him whole, bore into him. Daryl’s eyes roamed free, over every piece of him inside and out, the corner of his bottom lip caught between his teeth. The scrutiny made Rick’s skin tingle, and he wondered how he’d never felt so wanted in all his life.

He’d never make it home, his mind already set on stopping at the out-of-the-way rest area to take care of… thangs.

Daryl ran his card through the machine and handed it back, his fingers softer than they had a right to be.

“‘M sure I’ll be back,” Rick said as he picked up the flowers, more elated than deflated at the thought of another fight with Lori.

“‘M sure I’ll be here.”

Rick gave him a crooked smile and started for the door. Just as he pushed it open, he turned back to Daryl. “What are these orange ones?”

“Orange hyacinth,” he replied, a devilish grin hidden behind a facade of professionalism.

“What do they mean?”

The mask Daryl wore evaporated, and Rick couldn’t help himself from returning an impish smile. Yeah, he’d definitely be back.

 

//

 

“Daryl,” Glenn deadpanned, coming out from the back as soon as he heard the bell jingle, “You didn’t even charge him wholesale. We just lost money on those.”

He shrugged and fidgeted with the closest pen.

“And did you really have to push me into the back room right before he walked in?”

Daryl chuckled. “‘M sorry.”

“I have a bruise,” Glenn whined. “And orange hyacinths in a ‘forgive me’ bouquet?” The disgruntled noise his assistant let out almost had him feeling guilty. Almost. “You remember those mean jealousy, right?”

”Mhm.” He thought them appropriate.

“Man, you have one twisted sense of flower power.”

He smiled to himself and put the pen back in the cup on the counter. Okay, so maybe the hyacinths were a little bold, but he’d seen the signs, the fire in Rick’s eyes, the flush of his neck when Daryl licked his lips. Married or not, Daryl wanted him. And dammit, he deserved nice things!

*

Daryl hadn’t counted how many weeks passed without a visit from his favorite local deputy. Days, yes: twenty-six, but he tried not to read into that. He looked up before the bell had a chance to ring and met Rick’s eye through the glass, his face framed by the huge translucent daisy painted on the door that Carol insisted would make the place more inviting. He looked like a kid in one of those stereotypical children's’ plays you see in the movies, minus the beard.

He watched Rick juggle two cups of coffee as he opened the door, unaware of how ridiculously adorable he’d just looked. The twinkle in his eye revealed a playfulness Daryl hadn’t seen of him before, but the flash of heat that came after transformed him into some sort of sex god from a celestial plane come to sow his royal oats all over Daryl’s mortal ass.

Perhaps he’d watched one too many Marvel movies as of late.

“Brought ya some coffee,” Rick said, raising a cup and ripping Daryl from thoughts of tight spandex and stupidly attractive superheros… and Rick. “Didn’t know how ya took it so jus’ got a little cream and sugar.”

“‘S fine,” Daryl said, trying not to read into the gesture. He took a sip that scorched his tongue, but he welcomed the jolt of caffeine. “A li’l sugar?” he choked. The sugar attack had him smirking, and he rejoiced in the laugh lines deepening around Rick’s eyes.

“Oh, that mus’ be mine.” Rick held out his cup to trade, but Daryl pulled away.

“No take backs,” he huffed.

Before Daryl could get his flirt on—and by flirt, he meant a mix of sardonic humor, bad grammar, and a whole truck full of self-doubt—the bell rang again. They both looked toward the door, Rick turning and resting his back against the counter.

“Hey, Daryl,” Beth greeted with a smile sweeter than the coffee Rick brought him. “Mags sent me to pick up the orchids for the daddy’s clinic.”

He knew a lie when he heard one. Beth must’ve begged Maggie to come in her place so she could flirt with him. Though he didn’t know what she saw in him, other than a piece of shit hidden under a meadow of weeds, waiting for someone to come along and step on him—in him—which she’d mistaken for a bad boy.

“Glenn?” he hollered, not willing to waste any of the time he had with Officer Sex God. “Beth needs the orchids.”

“K, be right out,” came Glenn’s muffled reply.

“He’ll be right out,” Daryl said to her, even though he knew she’d heard their exchange.

By that time, she’d made her way to the counter, her elbows now resting on it and her face framed in her hands. He shot a quick glance toward Rick who looked equal parts amused and annoyed. Daryl could’ve told her he had a customer to tend to, but that would’ve cut Rick’s visit shorter than he’d like, so he let it go.

“So prom’s comin’ up,” Beth said, starting in on an unnecessary tale about her search for the perfect dress.

He didn’t bother keeping up, too busy watching Rick in his periphery, all jagged edges and smooth lines, a walking contradiction, a riddle Daryl couldn’t puzzle out. Married, to a woman, but eyes screaming for a reprieve. A cop, but one openly associating with a Dixon. Okay, so he was the only florist in town, but still, the man could’ve ordered them online. Goddamned 1800flowers. People didn’t appreciate personal touches anymore.

Rick made a sound deep in his throat halfway between a scoff and a chuckle at something Beth said, and he watched her jump out of her skin when she finally—how long had she been here—noticed Rick standing a little off to the side.

“Mr. Grimes,” she said, putting back the pieces of her composure. “I didn’t see you there.”

Daryl understood, he didn’t pay her much attention either and she stood right in front of him. Christ, is that how he acted when Rick walked in? Like a prattling juvenile with puppy dog eyes and the innate ability to tune out the entire world around him—no, to make Rick the center of it? Goddamn mother fucking crush.

“Here ya go, Beth,” Glenn said, saving them all from themselves. He had his hands full of several small pots each with a tall stalk capped with a multitude of soft pink and white flowers. “Need help to the car?”

Beth looked upset at the interruption but nodded her reply. “So you’ll make me a corsage?” she asked, smiling at Daryl so big it almost made his cheeks hurt in sympathy. As soon as she went off to college, she’d get over him.

He shrugged in reply.

“Thanks, Daryl,” she cooed. “Oh, Mr. Grimes, let me know if you need me to babysit Carl next week.”

_Babysit?_

Of course Rick had kids, a kid, a dozen, because nice things always had a way of slipping through Daryl’s fingers. And this time before he’d even grabbed ahold of it.

Glenn followed Beth out the door, and the all-consuming gravity of Rick’s presence threatened to rip him apart at the seams. The sweltering incalescents of a thousand stars hit him when Rick turned around, eyes sultry and pupils blown, but the heat couldn’t thaw the cold reality seeping into the marrow of Daryl’s bones.

Rick leaned down and posed with his cheeks in his hands like Beth had done, and Daryl rolled his eyes, not bothering to hold back an amused laugh at that or the way it turned sour in his mouth. He couldn’t have him, so he chose to ignore the infinitesimal speck of jealousy he caught flitting around Rick’s eyes.

“More apology flowers for Mrs. Grimes?” Daryl asked, hoping he’d managed to keep the mournfulness out of his voice.

Rick studied him for what felt like an eternity behind an iron mask before he straightened. “Uh, no, not exactly… well… do you have anything that says, _’I was right and I’m still pissed but ‘m sorry cause the couch is makin’ my back ache’_ except in a very passive-aggressive kind of way?”

Daryl smirked. “Yeah, I know just the thing.” He moved out from behind the counter and walked—nay, sashayed—over to the bouquets on display, and if he shook his ass a little more than usual, too fucking bad. Professionalism be damned. “Ya want an arrangement or just a single flower?”

“Can’t say I care either way.”

Daryl hummed as he picked up a bouquet of red primrose. “Underappreciation.” The look on Rick’s face turned giddy, and maybe they were both enjoying his and his wife’s marital problems a little too much. “Yellow carnations say disappointment. Or we could pair them together with snapdragons.”

“And those mean?” Rick asked with a raised brow.

“Liar.”

“Ahh….” Daryl watched his eyes turn stormy before a flash of guilt took its place. “Jus’ those’ll do,” he said, waving at the primrose bouquet. “Close enough, anyway.”

“Want a vase?”

“Nah, she can find her own.” His clipped tone alerted Daryl to the probability that no amount of flowers could save Rick’s marriage. He’d seen it time and time again, husbands purchasing hundred dollar arrangements knowing damn they couldn’t buy their way out of their misery. He usually didn’t care because profits, but he might’ve invested a little more time into this particular case.

Daryl took the bouquet back to the counter. “Delivery?”

Rick shook his head. “I should be headin’ home. Might as well get it over with,” he grumbled, but he made no attempt to pull out his wallet or initiate the transaction. Instead, he took a long drink of his coffee, his nose scrunching up in disdain. “Needs more sugar.”

“There’s some in the back,” Glenn said as both he and Rick gawked at him like he’d appeared out of thin air, space wizard style. And maybe he had.

“What are ya? Some kinda Korean ninja?” Daryl asked, wondering how much he’d heard of their conversation. Not that Glenn eavesdropped, his shoes made too much noise. Which meant Daryl’s world had once again compressed down into the precise shape of the sex god in front of him. “Wanna see where the magic happens?” he asked Rick, not quite a challenge in the tone, but who knew about his eyes?

He didn’t quite care if Rick agreed because of curiosity, desire, or to put off his trip home for as long as possible, but Daryl counted it as a win when he did. He outstretched his arms when they stepped into the back room all dramatic movie scene like, and gave Rick a quick tour, not that he couldn’t suss out the workbench littered with bits of flower and the storage fridges himself.

Rick followed him over to the disaster area known as his desk and watched his archeological dig for sugar packets. He scrounged up several and handed them to Rick before shuffling some papers around so he could sit on his desk, legs dangling just off the floor.

After stirring in the sugar with the plastic fork Daryl found for him, Rick took a tentative sip and let out a sigh of approval. And when had he gotten so close? Daryl could feel the warmth from his thighs even though they didn’t touch, and what a fucking shame. He jammed his hands under his thighs, not trusting himself to keep them from pulling Rick down in the same way the goddamn Kraken did to weary ships.

“How do ya know all this?” Rick asked motioning around at nothing in particular.

“It ain’t that hard. Most flowers have multiple meanin’s anyway, and I’m good at bullshittin.’” He swallowed hard when Rick’s leg brushed against his knee, an accident no doubt, except Rick didn’t retreat, and Daryl shouldn’t have reveled in something so insignificant, though it felt like a new galaxy had formed out of the contact. “An’ I’m pretty good at readin’ what people wanna hear.”

He needed to get a grip because he knew a hallucination when he had one. Except Rick’s slight advance had both his thighs ghosting along the inside of Daryl’s knees, tethering him to reality. Or threatening to rip him from it.

“What do _I_ wanna hear?” Rick asked.

Daryl screaming his name, fingers buried so deep into salt and pepper curls he’d never escape the labyrinth, the wet slide of his lips down Daryl’s cock, and their symphony of moans and broken words as Rick swallowed him down into unimaginable depths of depravity and desire. So said his darkened eyes.

And Daryl didn’t have to answer aloud, knowing his eyes gave him away too.

“Do they have a flower for ‘I wanna divorce?’” Rick asked in such a small voice, Daryl wondered if he had meant him to hear it.

“An arrangement of columbine, day lily, broken straw, witch hazel, and a daisy.” Rick gave him a look he couldn’t interpret, and he shrugged under the scrutiny. “Or you could go with just columbine or yellow chrysanthemums, yellow carnations. Maybe some achillea, also yellow. Lots a yellow. Butterfly weed. Dead roses….” And for the first time in Daryl’s life, he couldn’t shut the hell up.

And thank the gods for that because Rick decided to do it for him, pressing forward and laying siege to his mouth, hot and abrasive and desperate. No time for breathing, no time for thinking, no time for existing outside the universe known as Rick. And maybe he never did; he couldn’t remember.

Then it stopped, as quick as it started, and he thought he imagined the whole thing, except he could still feel the heat of the hand Rick had pressed to his jaw and the fingerprint bruises forming on the back of his neck. He could taste the lingering bittersweetness of a stolen kiss and smell the comforting scent of something like home.

He blinked and Rick was gone.

*

This time, Daryl counted the weeks: one.

The bell jingled, but when Daryl looked up, he realized Rick hadn’t come alone. Before he could process anything else, Rick made it up to the counter, eyes clouded by a raging storm. And when he opened his mouth, he growled like a man on the warpath.

“Gimme the damn snapdragons.”

 

//

 

A week.

A week since he’d kissed Daryl—or attacked, depending on your point-of-view—but to Rick, it seemed like a lifetime ago. He’d read the signals right for someone so out of practice. Daryl had kissed him back, moaned into his mouth and traced the edges of his lips with a wicked tongue. You can’t fake that kind of torridity, that kind of heat. You can’t manufacture it or bottle it, can’t conjure it out of thin air. And he knew ‘cause he’d spent his entire relationship with Lori trying, hoping for a spark that would never come.

They got married too young, both naive as hell, both too stubborn in the middle to uncouple, too angry at the end to salvage anything from the ruble. So he moved out and spent the week setting up a new place to call home. But then he found out the baby didn’t belong to him, and he kind of felt relieved.

He drove by the shop once—maybe stopping in the parking lot to stake out the place—only to second guess himself out of going in. He wondered if the kiss meant as much to Daryl as it had to him.

*

“Mom really likes flowers, huh Dad?” Carl asked when they pulled up in front of the Flower Fairy.

Rick smiled to himself. “Doesn’t everybody?”

“Flowers are for girls,” Carl replied as they walked toward the shop, contempt written on his chubby face.

“Why?”

Carl didn’t answer. The question must’ve stumped him. “Oh, cool!” he said, curiosity pulling him toward the display of floral animals as soon as they stepped inside. Rick liked the turtle, but he knew Carl would go for the dog. “Dad, look at these.”

“Yeah, I saw ‘em, bud,” he mumbled, not sparing Carl even so much as a glance. He’d already locked eyes with Daryl, and he knew exactly what had to be done. “Gimme the damn snapdragons.”

Daryl looked shellshocked, but a quick shake of his head turned his haunting stare into something predatory. “Hey, Glenn?”

“Yeah?” came a voice from somewhere behind the _Carnation Station_.

Daryl raised his chin toward Carl, baring his neck, and god, how Rick wanted a taste. “Can ya give the kid the grand tour?”

“Uh, yeah sure.”

Rick bit his lip and followed Daryl into the back without a word exchanged; they had no need of it. And Rick had no need of anything but Daryl after he pinned him to the wall, a thigh between his legs he couldn’t help but grind against. Because Jesus fuck he wanted more. He wanted everything.

He’d never kissed a man, not before Daryl, but he relished it, too hard and too soft and too perfect. And by that point, he probably wouldn’t have cared if Daryl had three heads because he’d found something in him he hadn’t realized he’d lost: himself.

“I-I moved out,” he rasped when Daryl broke their kiss to nibble down his jaw. Daryl froze, and for a second, he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Not like he ever knew the right thing, and especially not when the hottest guy he’d ever seen had him up against a wall, bodies fitted so completely he doubted they’d ever been apart.

Daryl eyed him with a bewildering stare but made no move. The heat hadn’t died between them. In fact, Rick watched it grow, ascending into the sky like a fire tornado with them tucked inside. He felt safe for the first time in ages, the eye of the storm instead of the one getting pelted by its wrath.

He looked down when Daryl wet his lips, breaking the trance of his words. He felt Daryl smile into a kiss, and upward they went, off to Oz or some other supplended place. And he couldn’t wait to drop a metaphoric house on Lori in the way of divorce papers.

A muffled “Dad” rung in his ear followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. Daryl must’ve heard it too because he rolled his hips, a sultry promise of more that trapped Rick’s breath in his throat. Then he pulled away, leaving Rick boneless, a crumbled mess of sex hair and lust.

They’d made it over to the storage fridges right as Carl came into view. He assumed his ten year old wouldn’t catch on, but he knew Glenn had, a little more judgement in his eyes than Rick cared for.

“Uh, jus’ picking out the flowers. What color ya like?”

Carl walked over to inspect what they had. “I think red.”

“Red?” Rick asked.

“Or yellow.”

Daryl opened the fridge door, the cool air working miracles for Rick’s burning skin.

“But mom likes pink,” Carl added.

“Let’s do purple,” Rick said, doing his best to keep his voice even. Carl shrugged, having lost interest after spotting the Venus flytraps. Rick leaned into Daryl and whispered, “Lori hates purple.”

A dark grin painted Daryl’s face as Rick watched him grab a bunch of purple snapdragons, swallowing when he replayed how amazing the hand full of flowers had felt on his ass. If anyone asked, he’d blame the fridge for the shiver that danced up his spine.

The bell on the door chimed and Glenn disappeared, leaving Rick to watch Daryl assemble the bouquet. He chuckled as Daryl sorted through a bin of baby’s breath, picking out the oldest ones they had, their tips already tinged brown.

“Ain’t my best work,” Daryl said.

“Good.” Not that Rick could tell either way, but maybe Lori would. “I want ‘em delivered.” Because he didn’t want to see her if he didn’t have to. “But could ya let ‘em dry out for a few days first?”

Daryl gave him the side eye. “The customer is always right.”

Rick completed a delivery slip when they made it back to the counter. “Ya got a marker?” he asked before writing on the card. Daryl handed over a sharpy and Rick proceeded to write four big letters, filling up the entire card with the word liar. And just like that, he felt a million times lighter.

“Dad, can I have a flower dog?” Carl hollered across the store. The customer with Glenn shot Rick a glare.

“I suppose,” he yelled back with mocking sigh, just to spite the old bat.

“You’re Daryl?” Carl asked as he joined Rick at the counter clutching a dog made of white roses to his chest.

“Yeah, why?” Daryl seemed apprehensive at the sudden interrogation.

Carl looked him over then shrugged. “My dad says you’re cool.”

Daryl smirked, wild eyes turning on Rick. “Does he now?”

Rick raised a brow and changed the subject. “How much for the dog?”

“‘S on the house.”

“Really?” Carl asked.

“Of course. Yer dad’s my best costumer,” he replied, shooting Rick a wink.

“Dad’s right. You are cool.”

“Even got a motorcycle to prove it.”

“Woah!”

And now Rick wanted to ride his bike _and_ his dick.

Daryl kept flashing him lascivious looks, and he knew he had to get out of there before he turned into a walking hard on.

“We should be headin’ home, Carl. I promised ya pancakes.” His stomach grumbled at the thought, but he knew no amount of food could satiate the hunger Daryl had unleashed within him. He had a taste of precious mana after forty years in the desert, and he wanted more. So much more.

 

//

 

Daryl didn’t make deliveries anymore. He left that to Glenn, and occasionally Carol, when she needed a break from giving the shop a “feminine touch.” But he wanted to deliver the snapdragons to Rick’s wife himself. Not the best idea since it was born out of jealousy but mixed with a healthy dose of curiosity at seeing what Rick had walked away from.

The house looked nice enough, if you liked the whole two point five kids and a dog vibe it had going on. He understood the appeal, but he’d resigned himself to a life of perpetual bachelorhood long ago. Or at least he had until he met Rick. If he squinted he could picture himself digging around in the flowerbeds while Rick brought him a glass of sweet tea.

But he stomped down the thought and the envious feeling that came with it as he knocked on the front door.

He didn’t know what to expect when she answered the door, a startled look of surprise on her face. Her porcelain skin and flowing dark hair, both the epitome of femininity, left him wondering what Rick saw in his scruffy ass. He didn’t exactly have the most glowing personality.

“Uh, got a delivery for a Lori Grimes,” he ground out, her name like shards of glass lodged in his tongue. He cleared his throat and tried to swallow them down.

“That’s me,” Lori replied, her bewildered expression softening into something resembling hope. Daryl handed over the bouquet and watched her scrunch up her nose in mild disgust. “They look a little old.”

“Think they were on sale,” Daryl lied.

Her appreciative smile turned sweet, and Daryl almost felt bad. Until she opened her mouth. “My husband keeps sendin’ me flowers. Even with all the ones he’s planted in the garden, he still springs for bouquets. I should probably return the favor. Can wives send flowers?”

Daryl put on a fake smile, hoping it would mask the horrible feeling of dredge at the possibility of Rick taking her back. Had he imagined the explosive chemistry between them? Or was Rick just looking for something different, a little vacation from the role of dutiful husband before he broke things off? They hadn’t even slept together yet and Daryl’s heart cracked at the thought of it.

“Yeah, on occasion. Come down to the Flower Fairy and we’ll set ya up.”

“I might just do that. Thank you,” she said before nodding a goodbye and closing the door.

He wished he could’ve seen her face when she read the card.

Daryl wanted to call Rick, send a text, see his face, anything to settle his racing mind after the encounter, but he didn’t know if he should or whether Rick would mind him getting his number off the order slip, despite the fact he’d underlined it three times.

Rick had entanglements, a sticky web of responsibilities. So he’d wait, leave the ball in Rick’s court and hope he’d volley it back before the world imploded. He hated feeling so unsteady, so unmoored, but Rick had pulled him out on the ice at the first sight of his cool blue eyes.

He could only pray it didn’t melt right out from under him.

*

Daryl hadn’t anticipated the next Grimes to walk in his shop would be Lori, but he should’ve known. She looked a bit nervous as she walked up to the counter, and he couldn’t help retreating into himself at her sudden appearance. He regretted letting Glenn go to lunch early.

“Hi again,” Lori said, more polite than Daryl could handle. “Just came in to buy some flowers for my husband.”

Daryl nodded and tried not to let the stinging possessiveness at hearing her call Rick “husband” from show on his face. He could feel his hackles rising, a primal yearning swelling in his chest. “Have anything in mind?”

Lori sighed as she took a moment to look around. “I have no clue. Probably nothing pink though.” She let out a nervous chuckle when she turned her attention back to him. “Roses maybe.”

Daryl pointed toward their selection of roses. “The white ones mean marriage or new beginnings.” Goddammit, why’d he have to be so fucking helpful? He gnawed on a thumb nail and watched out of the corner of his eye as she took in the premade rose bouquets. She seemed nice enough, but then again, he wasn’t married to her.

Lori picked out a bouquet and brought it to the counter. “Do these look masculine enough?” she asked.

He looked them over and grunted a reply, not wanting to do something idiotic like tell her she’d picked out gardenias instead of roses. And fuck, he hoped she’d want them delivered.

“I’ll take ‘em,” she said, reaching for her purse. “And of course you deliver. How soon can you get them out?”

“By five o’clock today.” Except he already knew he’d fly out the door the second Glenn set foot in the shop. He just had to make it till then without jumping out of his own skin.

“Great,” she said with an appreciative smile as he handed over a delivery slip.

Despite her cordial demeanor, he breathed a sigh of relief when she left. The entire encounter set him on edge, and he felt a but lousy for charging her full price. He had, after all, pinned her _husband_ to the wall in the back less than a week ago, with their kid just feet away no less. But he’d done worse things in his life. He could handle a little guilt.

*

Daryl hadn’t stepped foot inside the Sheriff’s station in years, and even though he’d come on business, it made his muscles want to run. But he needed to see Rick to make sure he hadn’t dreamt him up or imagined the fiery fervor in his eyes.

“Daryl?” Maggie’s comforting voice had the tension in his shoulders easing as she smiled from the receptionist desk. “Are those from Glenn? I still have the ones from last week,” she said, looking lovingly toward a vase of daisies on her desk.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You wish.”

She gave him a playful grin. “Who’s the lucky one today then?”

“Uh, Rick Grimes.”

She looked less than surprised. “Wonder who they’re from?” Her knowing wink had him wanting to strangle that little Korean boyfriend of hers. He just couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut, could he?

“His wife,” Daryl spat.

Her face fell. “Oh… Hey Rick, you got a delivery.”

Daryl followed her line of sight over to Rick and watched his eyes light up at either him or the flowers. Or maybe both.

Rick hurried over, a goofy grin on his face. “These for me?”

“Mhm, from yer wife,” Daryl said, tone more accusatory than necessary. Not that he hadn’t known all along of Rick’s wife.

Rick’s grin turned bitter as Daryl handed over the gardenias. “Soon-to-be _ex-wife,_ ” he corrected. “An’ I’m not sure I want ‘em then.”

“I’ll, uh, just go refresh my coffee,” Maggie said before slipping away.

“She thought they were white roses,” Daryl said.

“Which mean?”

“New beginnings.”

Rick let out an anguished laugh. “What are they really?”

“Gardenias,” Daryl said, unable to hold back a self serving smile that had him feeling victorious when Rick gave him an inquisitive one right back.

“What do they say in flower?”

“Secret love.”

Rick’s smile transformed into a shit eating grin as he nearly doubled over with laughter. Daryl’s heart sputtered at the joyous sound, his eyes not wavering from Rick’s now glistening with unshed tears. “Well, in that case, I’m jus’ gonna pretend they’re from you.”

Daryl swallowed hard and bit his lip. If he didn’t think he’d get shot by the other deputies, he would’ve mauled Rick right then and there. But he wasn’t an animal; he could wait. Maybe.

“I should prolly head out,” Daryl said, his jittery nerves returning with the attention Rick’s laugh drew. Plus he didn’t trust he could keep his hands to himself.

“Yeah, I should get back too,” Rick replied. “Thanks for the flowers, Secret love.”

Daryl rolled his eyes and turned around to leave, trying his best to keep from reading into Rick’s term of endearment. He didn’t want to be a secret, but after a lifetime with Merle, he was used to taking whatever leftover scraps he could get.

 

//

 

Things went to shit after Daryl delivered his flowers. Rick told everyone Lori sent them, which was true, because he didn’t know if Daryl would be okay with him spreading their business around town, especially since they hadn’t exactly talked about what that business was. They should probably do that before Daryl changed his mind about him.

He could tell the flowers made Shane uncomfortable sitting on his desk. His partner always had a shit poker face, but even their rookie picked up on the way Shane seemed to want to set them on fire with his eyes. At least he waited till the end of their shift to declare World War Three.

“The baby’s mine, ya know,” Shane had said as soon as they made it to the parking lot, his shoulders readying for a fight.

Rick cocked his head and narrowed his eyes at him. “What’d you say?”

“We’ve been having an affair,” Shane snarled. “She keeps tellin’ me she’s leavin’ you and then she sends you flowers? What the fuck, man?” Shane fumed like he had some right to, and Rick would’ve found it amusing if not for the resentment from all the lies and deceit.

“She said she had a one-night stand.”

Rick knew he should’ve left then. He’d moved out, moved on, so they could shack up all they wanted. But Shane kept goading him, knowing just where to hit to cause maximum damage.

“Maybe if you woulda paid her a little more attention, she wouldn’t have come runnin’ to me.”

The next thing he knew, Morgan had a hold of him pulling them apart. His fingers ached and he could taste blood, but from the look of Shane, he gave just as good as he got. Morgan ordered him to go home, and he complied, storming to his car as he dabbed at his throbbing lip. But first, he had a pitstop to make.

*

The closed sign hung on the door of the Flower Fair when he arrived, but Rick knocked on the glass anyway, letting out a sigh of relief when he spotted Daryl coming out from the back.

“What the hell happened to you?” Daryl asked, as he unlocked the door and caught sight of Rick’s injuries.

“How do you say ‘fuck you’ in flower?”

The look of concern on Daryl’s face stayed in place but he answered anyway. “Orange lilies.”

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose but winced when he grazed his blackening eye. “I’ll take two bouquets of a dozen each. An’ some black roses. Or no, some wilted ones maybe.”

“I’ll need ta special order ‘em. Might take a few days.”

“Worth the wait.”

Daryl stepped closer and inspected his eye. “Now tell me who’s ass I gotta kick.”

His heart fluttered at the thought of Daryl standing up for him, all the tension in his body dissipating now that he stood in his orbit. “Jus’ found out my best friend knocked up my wife.”

“Soon-to-be ex-wife,” Daryl groused.

Rick nodded, his anger thawing when he realized he’d already moved on. “Seein’ you was the best part of my day.” He watched Daryl’s cheeks turn red, and he couldn’t help but smile. He stepped closer and put his hands on Daryl’s hips, delighting in the way his breath seemed to catch in his throat.

Daryl slipped his arms around him and inched closer until their bodies fused together from thigh to sternum. “Ya never have to worry about that with me.”

Rick knew it to be true; no way in hell would Daryl hurt him like that. He leaned forward and kissed him, soft and tentative, his lip still stinging from its meeting with Shane’s fist. Daryl kissed him back just as gentle, and Rick hummed when a thumb worked its way under his shirt to rub soothing circles on his hip.

Daryl looked divine when they broke apart, eyes filled with want and lips shimmering in the darkened shop. “Anything else ya need?” he asked, both thumbs now spiraling on Rick’s skin.

“Yeah, a blowjob,” Rick muttered, half joking and half serious as a heart attack.

And okay, he hadn’t expected for Daryl to oblige, and certainly not that second, but Rick gave no resistance when he twisted a fist in the front of his shirt and ushered him into the back. And it wasn’t like he could protest, not when Daryl plunged a hot hand down his pants, fingers curling around him like a coiled python nearing starvation.

A slow stroke and Rick’s legs quaked. He couldn’t hold himself up for this, not when Daryl burned with the gravity of a thousand suns. Luckily, he didn’t have to. Daryl guided him over the workbench and Rick had just enough brain power to settle atop it before his cock broke free of his jeans. He felt the heat of Daryl’s mouth and looked down just in time to watch the tip of his tongue glide along the slit.

He met Daryl’s eyes as he quivered, and yeah, he was gonna die right then and there. His head rolled back when Daryl swallowed him down, his mind transformed into a warm gooey mess of pleasure wrapped in the heavenly fragrance of flowers. Daryl’s tongue swirled around the head of his cock sending his back arching upward while his hands scrambled for purchase, one burrowing into Daryl’s dark hair, the other finding comfort among the soft petals of a bin of carnations.

And he should’ve been embarrassed at how fast he came because Christ, a nineteen year old Rick Grimes had more resolve than that. But that mattered little when his world exploded, sparks shooting out of every nerve ending in his body. Daryl didn’t stop until he’d wrung him dry.

He fell forward, his body bowing down around Daryl’s. Rick pressed a series of kisses to the top of his head as he muttered thank yous and other such post-orgasm nonsense, but when he gathered the strength to straighten up, he let out a soft chuckle at the pink petals mottled in Daryl’s hair.

“Sorry,” he said as he began picking out the flecks of flowers.

“What? For comin’ down my throat?” Daryl asked.

Rick shook his head as he smiled, nearly choking when Daryl wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Daryl stood and cradled Rick’s head in his hands before delving into a languid kiss. He wanted it to last forever, but Daryl broke away too soon only to rest his forehead against his, their breathing syncing, and hopefully their hearts too.

“Come home with me,” Rick said, fingers toying with the dampened hair at the nape of Daryl’s neck. “I got beer and we can order pizza…. Then I can return the favor. Can’t promise it’ll be anywhere nears as good as that since I haven’t, well you know. But I’m a quick learner.”

Daryl flashed a wicked smile and hugged him close. “Ya had me at _come_.”

Rick scoffed and gave a half-hearted attempt to push him away but surrendered the instant Daryl’s arms tightened their grip.

And when he woke up in the morning, the same arms anchoring him to Daryl’s chest, he felt at peace for the first time in ages, maybe ever. Because whatever kind of love he’d had for Lori faded long ago, and he knew—down in the deepest parts of his soul—that would never happen with Daryl.

 

//

 

Daryl wiped a sweaty palm on his jeans. They’d stayed up pretty late celebrating Rick’s first official night divorced, but he’d woken up early and snuck out to the shop. Now he stood in front of Rick’s door warring with whether or not he should knock. He could leave, tell Rick later he had some sort of flower emergency. That happened more often than one would think during peak wedding season. Or he could man up and do the one thing in his life that had ever made sense.

He started to pace, his thoughts oscillating between resolve and cowardice. How soon was too soon? What if he’d misread all the signs and the unadulterated love that sparkled in Rick’s eyes? What if he fucked it up somewhere down the line?

It never occurred to him that he’d have someone he’d love enough to terrorize him that much, someone he wanted to give a spider flower to. Not until that blue eyed deputy walked into his shop near soaked to the bone. But somewhere between first sight and first words, Daryl had fallen, and he knew he’d never be able to claw his way free.

So he could do this; he wanted to do this.

He took a deep breath and then knocked. Maybe he should’ve left the door unlocked so he could’ve slipped back in but too late now. The door opened and there Rick stood, a quizzical look on his face. He held a coffee mug, so at least Daryl hadn’t woken him.

“Delivery,” Daryl said, voice low and thick with worry.

Rick beamed when Daryl handed him a single spider flower, colorful tendrils as askew as Rick’s hair. He gave the flower a sniff and smiled wide. “Wonder what this means in the language of flowers. I should probably ask my boyfriend,” Rick teased, moving out of the way to welcome Daryl inside.

Daryl tugged on his collar, the temperature in the apartment somehow rivaling that of the sun. “There’s a hint on the card.”

Rick winked at him and sat down his coffee. He opened up the tiny envelope and pulled out the card, a look of momentary shock chased away by the biggest smile Daryl had ever seen. “Marry me?”

“More like elope with me,” Daryl explained, “but the sentiment’s the same.” He had trouble keeping eye contact as he waited for an answer or for Rick to laugh it off as a joke.

He didn’t have to wait long though, Rick immediately throwing his arms around Daryl’s neck and kissing the breath right of of him. He didn’t dare assume that meant yes, but he had a pretty good feeling about it.

“Daryl Dixon, did you jus’ ask me to runaway with you an’ get married with a flower?”

Daryl gave a sharp nod in reply.

“That’s the most ridiculously romantic thing I’ve ever heard.” Rick laughed, his lips pressing a hundred soft kisses to Daryl’s. “Yeah, I wanna run away with you… as long as we get back before Carl comes over tonight night.”

“Wait, you wanna do it now? Today?” Daryl sputtered.

“Hell yeah! I waited my whole life for you. I’m not waitin’ anymore.”

Daryl’s knees threatened to buckle, so he tightened his hold and kissed Rick with everything he had. Who knew the two-word nickname Merle gave him all those years ago would lead to this? The Queen of the flower fairies had finally found his king. Thank god for the language of flowers.


End file.
